


Timothy Drake—why do you want to know about death?

by anythingbutahero



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Mentions of Death, No Death but a Little Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutahero/pseuds/anythingbutahero
Summary: Tim refills Jason’s drink unasked and masks the empty bottles as his own even though he hasn’t had a drop. And when Jason asks, “Why’d you call me over tonight?” Tim lies through his teeth. Says he wants an opinion on new tech he’s designing. Magnetic cuffs. Force field boots. He continues until Jason’s answers develop a slur, until his blinks get slow. Then Tim asks his real question.“Hey Jason,” Tim locks his eyes on the Gotham skyline. “What’s it like to die?”AKA Here's a little story forthis postwhere Tim and Jason have that heart-to-heart about death. Set before Duke joins the team.





	Timothy Drake—why do you want to know about death?

It takes some doing, convincing Jason to take a night off from the Red Hood to just ‘hang out.’ A neutral safe house meetup had helped: somewhere without Bruce or Dick or audio recording equipment. A couple of cases of beer hadn’t hurt Tim’s chances either.

“Shit’s strong tonight,” Jason mutters into the lip of his bottle before taking another swig. Tim just nods, knocking his heels against the side of the roof the two sat on. The buzz Jason was feeling had less to do with the three beers Jason thought he had drunk and more with the seven Tim had been secretly pouring back into Jason’s bottle at increments Tim knew he wouldn’t notice. A little sleight of hand trick he learned from the Riddler.

He just needed Jason to be drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember the conversation Tim wanted to have. That’s all. No daring rescue or half-crafted mission, just a question. Two at most. And the Lazarus Pit had hiked up Jason’s tolerance so that Tim didn’t think he could get him to have that many beers on his own. This was the logical move.  

So Tim refills Jason’s drink unasked and masks the empty bottles as his own even though he hasn’t had a drop. And when Jason asks, “Why’d you call me over tonight?” Tim lies through his teeth. Says he wants an opinion on new tech he’s designing. Magnetic cuffs. Force field boots. He continues until Jason’s answers develop a slur, until his blinks get slow. Then Tim asks his real question.

“Hey Jason,” Tim locks his eyes on the Gotham skyline. “What’s it like to die?”

There’s a long pause and some shuffling as Jason tries to right himself from where he was lying. When he does, Tim can feel his sideways stare.

“Timothy Drake,” the crispness of his voice makes Tim worry for a second that Jason’s not as drunk as he thought he was. “Why do you want to know about death?”

“Curious.” It’s the only answer Tim can say that is close to the truth and doesn’t make his stomach crawl into his throat. Jason will accept it because it’s a Tim answer; he’s always curious. Hell, that’s how he uncovered Batman’s identity.

Besides, Tim can’t say that he’s been running the math. That after years of watching too many funerals and losing too many friends—from his family to Conner to Wally who just _ceased—_ he’s become overwhelming aware of one fact.

He is the only male in Batman’s circle who hasn’t died yet.

It should be an accomplishment, really, not dying. A testament to his intellect or his skill or his luck. But Bruce has died. Jason died. Dick died. Damian died. And Tim doesn’t have the same years of experience or the lethal methods or the natural agility or the blood of two skilled families pumping through his veins. Tim is built on strategy, he knows, and he trusts himself, but he is anything if not reasonable. Death is a partner he has spent a long time dancing with and the song will end eventually. Being a team with Batman forces Red Robin to deal with every psychopath in Arkham. Knowing Bruce Wayne makes Tim Drake a target for mugging and kidnapping. The Teen Titans brings him into contact with aliens and magic and literal Satan. The simple probability, _inevitability_ , is that he is going to die on the job, on a train, in his sleep. From something stupid like a falling piano, or Damian (accident or not). Maybe even as Conner predicts: coffee deficiency or overdose.

And so he wants to know…needs to know what it will be like when the time comes.

Jason, blunt, no holds barred Jason is his best shot at finding out without all of the hand holding or pity stares.

So he waits with baited breath as Jason downs the rest of his beer before squinting at Tim’s face and pointing a finger at him.

“It sucks, Timmy.” Jason drunkenly sweeps his arms wide and unthinking, forcing Tim to duck as relief floods his nerves. “It’s absolute torture. Now I’m just speakin from ‘sperience here, but…” He pauses to let out a small hiccup. “Been blown up and that shit should give me full authority on it.”

“Is it just pain?” Tim prompts.

“S’like pain but a lot deeper? Ya know, ‘cause you can train yourself to ignore pain but that? It’s in your soul, Timmy. In your soul.” Jason’s face sobers for a moment. “Coming back though. Now that stings. Like you’re being ripped apart cell by cell and when it stops it’s like something’s come unhinged, dislocated and you try to shove it back into place but you can’t find the way it fit before. So you try to fill the space with other things.”

Tim notices the way Jason’s grip on his empty bottle tightens. It’s alarming and he wonders whether Jason’s ever told anyone this before. He knows Dick thought Jason was unsettled when he first came back, but it’s been years. Jason’s reunited with the family; he’s found Roy and Kori. Tim thought—they all thought—he was better. But maybe some things can’t be fixed by simply recovering from the trauma.

Tim mentally notes to bridge the topic again when Jason can remember what he’s saying. When he can truly ask for the help Tim wants to give. For now, he’ll finish what he planned to do tonight.

“And what’s it like on the other side,” Tim whispers it like that will ensure no one will ever know he asked. It takes a while for Jason to formulate words. He lays down again, the bottle slipping from his fingers and rolling off the roof before Tim catches it with his foot and places it with the others.

When he finally does speak, Jason stumbles between a place that sounds like heaven and one that sounds like hell. 

"S'like your brain knows something's wrong but doesn't know what. There's no body so it makes you feel pain everywhere, inside and out. You see some weird shit too. Bright white rings, big wings that jut out at odd angles. Pure white columns emerging from graves.  And then..." 

Jason goes silent for a long time and Tim has to look back at him to make sure he hasn't passed out. But Jason's eyes are open, just glazed over. 

"And then?" Tim asks. 

"Everything kind of goes black and silent," Jason sounds wispy and far off. "And you can start to think to yourself that maybe in a few moments you'll open your eyes and you'll be right back in your bed. Yeah, in just a minute you'll get up and start your day, but for now you'll rest. It's almost peace."

Tim turns to the Gotham skyline at those words and sighs. And as Jason falls asleep to the rising sun, Tim let's his mind spin around what he's heard.

Because Tim has already accepted that one day he won't be fast enough, mentally or physically. That he will be the next to die. But Tim is a man of probability, so he also knows that since everyone else died—Wally, Conner, _Bruce_ , _Jason_ , **_Dick_** , **_Damian_** —and came back...the chances are that he **won't**. 

But Tim thinks he can handle 'almost peace.' 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://anythingbutahero.tumblr.com/)


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